


Dust of the Traveled Road

by SorchaCahill



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age 2
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, On the Run, Sebastian says the most surprising things, Sexual Content, greasy spoon, where pistols replace daggers but Sebastian still has his bow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaCahill/pseuds/SorchaCahill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the battle in The Gallows Hawke has been on the road, just her and her Harley. She wanders through Thedas, never staying in one place for too long. The one constant are the roadside diners she eats at. But one can only run for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hawke coasted into the no-name town on fumes sometime after midnight. It was just a little spit of a town that looked like it had never seen better days. Her Harley grumbled as she passed the town’s Chantry, the doors and windows all boarded up with signs of vegetation overtaking the small building. Rusted Studebakers sat in the driveways of clapboard houses, their lawns more squares of dirt than grass. She had been seeing more and more of the same since she had fled Kirkwall. She had also seen its extreme opposite as well. Chantries filled to overflowing with the faithful, zealous in their fervor. Towns so pristine that one wouldn't guess that Thedas was on the brink of destruction.

It was a direct result of what had happened in Kirkwall, when the city had finally exploded. In this new world people either lost their faith or clung to it so desperately to the detriment of all other things. This shithole of a town appeared to be of the former persuasion.

She had let Anders live, Maker help her, a decision she was beginning to regret now over a year later but at the time she had firmly believed that a quick death was too easy for him. What purpose would killing him outright have served she had argued with her companions. He had wanted death, had wanted the status of a martyr and she was damned to the Void if she was going to give him that chance by her own hand.

Stupid, selfish bastard she thought not for the first time. Hawke hadn’t seen it then, but with time she recognized just how manipulative he had become, how he had used their friendship to further his own goals. She hated him for that, almost as much as she hated herself for not seeing it then.

In the end it hadn’t mattered that she hadn’t executed Anders right after he admitted his guilt. He had died, whether willfully or not, in the Gallows, using the last of his mana to deflect a blow that was meant for her. His blast of mana had tossed her over a dozen feet away, her head bouncing off the pavement. Her vision had briefly turned to black but not before she saw the Gate Guardian’s giant sword slash through his body, his blood joining hundreds more in staining the streets of Kirkwall.

No, she hadn’t killed him outright but by her inaction he was just as dead. The irony of it all wasn't lost on her.

She idly wondered if that fact would make a difference in a certain prince’s mind but she doubted it. Sebastian’s rage had been so great that it was a wonder he hadn’t struck out at both of them right there. Perhaps whatever remnant of what he felt for her had stayed his hand but it hadn’t stopped him from promising to bring the full might of Starkhaven down on her for not passing judgement on Anders.

Anders may have disappointed and angered her, but Sebastian Vael had broken her heart.

Hawke continued down the pothole-ridden road, the headlamp from her bike painting the way. A few of the houses had lights on, most were dark, and Hawke couldn’t help but feel eyes staring out at her. It was paranoid of course, but paranoia had kept her alive for many years, especially in the last year. 

Through the haze she saw one building lit up, the lone source of activity in the entire city. Pulling up to it she saw the sorriest excuse for a diner one could ever imagine and that was saying a lot. She had become somewhat of a connoisseur of greasy spoons over the last year and while she could safely say that she had avoided food poisoning she couldn’t say that she had had a good meal either. Maker, she missed Orana’s cooking. The woman had been an amazing cook. There were nights that she dreamed of her chocolate souffle.

Hawke parked at the far end of the parking lot, away from the lights. Pulling off her helmet, she ran her fingers through her short hair. It had been long once and a startling shade of red, one that had been described once as the color of autumn leaves, a fanciful thought that had made her smile at the time but now it just made her sad. It had been over a month since she last cut it, the style looking shaggier day by day. She had dyed it a mousy brown but that too was fading. Her money was running low and she needed to save it for things like gas. And food.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since just after dawn the previous day. She had been doing that too much of late, eating only as much as necessary and using the rest for gas. Lodging wasn't something she worried about too much, preferring to spend the night outside or in the occasional abandoned barn. 

Swinging her leg over the Harley’s seat, Hawke stood and stretched her arms behind her. She had spent too many hours driving without stopping and wished for a long, hot bath.

The night was cool but with her leathers she was relatively warm. That wouldn’t last for long. Winter was coming and she would have to find a way to get some warmer gear, which would be difficult as she was running low on money. She hadn’t hit desperate yet but she would have to find some sort of work soon. Or a pub with some foolish men who thought they could beat her at Wicked Grace. The world was never at a loss for fools.

A bell jangled as she entered the diner, a pleasant sound that was incongruous with what the interior of the diner looked like. It was dingy but not quite decrepit, not yet anyway. In a way it reminded her of The Hanged Man, minus the soldiers and the bad brew. A dull ache pushed through her, memories of a happier time threatening to rise to the surface. Hawke swallowed them as she made her way to the back of the diner, picking a booth near the rear exit. 

Hawke ignored the side glances she received from the other patrons as she walked down the aisle. In a town this small, not completely located in the ass-end of nowhere, strangers were bound to be noticed but to a one, the other diners turned back to their coffee or whatever else they had been involved in before she entered. She thanked the Maker for disinterested people. Disinterested people were the reason why she had been able to stay free for so long. 

Letting her bag drop onto the seat beside her, Hawke slid into the booth, not even bothering to suppress the sigh that came out of her. Maker, she was tired. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten a good night’s sleep. It definitely wasn't in the last year, that was for certain. It was reminiscent of her childhood, always on the run, hiding from Templars, but then she hadn’t been alone, she had had her family. For ten years she had had friends who were as close to family as they could get. Now she had no one.

And she was being boring. Annoyed with herself, Hawke picked up the menu and stared at it without really seeing. Not that she really needed to as diner fare rarely changed from diner to diner. There were the usual greasy cheeseburgers, the stale meatloaf, the same cherry pie with a few geographical variations. Diners in Rivain tended toward a spicier fare while those closer to Orlais liked to drown just about everything in some kind of sauce. What Orlais’ obsession was with sauces she would never know.

This particular diner seemed to be a fan of fish. Fish sandwiches, fish soup, fried fish, fish with chips, fish stew. Something called a fish and egg pie. All sorts of different fish. She hated fish.

Doing a quick mental calculation in her head, Hawke added up what coin she had left and what gas she had left in the Harley. It wasn’t a lot; what she had was maybe enough to fill her tank. Maybe she’d just get some toast and tea.

The waitress came and went with her barely noticing. Hawke poured several teaspoons of honey into her cup and then wrapped her hands around it, trying to warm her suddenly cold hands. 

A suddenly prickling at the back of her neck was all the warning she had.

“You always did like your tea overly sweet.”

Hawke raised careful eyes from her cup and focused on the figure standing over her. The light above him partially shrouded his face but she would know that voice anywhere. 

“And you always liked it with lemon. I never did understand that.”

“We all have our preferences, Hawke.”

“I suppose we do. Are you going to sit down or are you aiming for me to get a crick in my neck?”

There was a slight pause before Sebastian Vael slid into the seat across from her. Physically he hadn’t changed much in the last year or so, but there was a hardness to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. She shouldn’t have been, but Hawke was both surprised and saddened to see it there.

“You’re a hard woman to find, Hawke.”

“Really? That’s how you want to start out this conversation?” She was met with silence. “Fine. I suppose I am. I have this weird compulsion to keep breathing. Can’t seem to shake it.”

“If you had wanted to keep doing so, you shouldn’t have crossed over into Starkhaven’s borders. You might also want to consider using a less noticeable form of transportation.”

“Is that where I am then? Huh. This far off the main road, who can tell where a person is. Does this town even _have_ a name? Didn't see a sign when I rolled in. And don’t knock my bike. Harley has gotten me out of a lot of scrapes.”

“The town’s name is of no importance. Our business is.”

“Finally making good on your promise then? Tell me then, Sebastian, how many Starkhaven soldiers are waiting for me outside?” Hawke picked up her spoon, scooping up the tea bag and wrapped the string around it, squeezing out the excess water. She would dearly love a pot of properly brewed tea, not this bagged shit, but she would have to make do.

“I have no soldiers waiting outside. I intend to take care of this myself.”

Hawke carefully set her spoon down to the side, the tea bag still tied to it. She raised her eyes to fully meet his for the first time. It was still a shock, to see that fierce blue staring back at her. She had never gotten used to it. Each time their gazes had locked it had caused something to tug in her stomach, this time was no different except for the sour taste in the back of her mouth.

“So. You've come to try to kill me then. I see.”

She was met with silence again, his face unreadable. There was a time that she could see every thought and emotion that went through him, now it was like looking at stone. Her mind flicked to her pistols under her jacket and the dagger sitting in its sheath at the small of her back. Would she be able to get to them in time? More importantly, would she be able to use them against him? She just wasn't sure. In matters of the heart she never was.

Staring at him, she thought she saw something flicker through his eyes, but it was gone before she could identify it.

“Kill you.” 

Was that a question in his voice? She wasn't sure.

“Yes. That is why you’re here aren't you? I seem to remember you telling me that if I let Anders live that you would bring the whole might of Starkhaven down upon me. Since you told me there aren't any soldiers waiting for me outside, I’m assuming you mean to do the deed yourself.”

“Killing you would be too easy.”

Hawke sat back in her seat, unable to stop herself from gaping at him. Did he really mean that?

“ _Now_ you say that? Since when? I thought instant justice was something you believed in.”

“Matters have… shifted.”

“Shifted. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Hawke hadn’t intended to let her voice rise but like many things concerning Sebastian Vael, she had difficulty reigning herself in.

“Must you use such vulgar language?”

“Don’t get all holier than thou with me, Sebastian Vael. We both know that you are no innocent. A little cursing isn't something to get your knickers in a bunch.” Hawke could feel her temper rising. “If you’re not here to arrest me or to kill me, just why the fuck are you here?”

“To warn you.”

Of all the things she had expected him to say, that was definitely not one of him. Hawke slowly unclenched her hands, letting the blood flow back into her fingers. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“Yes, I heard you Sebastian, I’m just having trouble comprehending what you’re saying. Last I knew you wanted me dead and yet here you are, warning me. Warning me of what exactly?”

“Maker’s breath, must you always make things more difficult than they need to be?”

“Apparently so. Another habit I’m afraid. Like that one I have about breathing. I’m funny like that.”

“This is no laughing matter, Moyra. The Seekers are looking for you.”

Hawke tried not to let the feel of hearing her name on his tongue get to her but it did. Damn the man. Shaking it off, she focused on the last thing he said.

“The Seekers. Haven’t heard of them.”

“You should have, but you have definitely met one.”

“Have I now? I would think I would know it when I met someone from some secret order that no one knows about.”

“The Seekers aren’t a secret order, they do the work of the Divine.”

“The work of the Divine. Perhaps I should rephrase my first question. Should I be expecting a squad of Templars when I leave this diner? I don’t suppose it will matter to them that I’m not a mage. They seem to be caring less and less about truth these days.”

“There are no soldiers, no Templars, no anybody waiting outside, Morya. It’s just me.”

“You came after little old me on your lonesome. I don’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted.”

“I don’t particularly care what you feel but you do need to listen to me.”

“I don’t have to do anything, much less listen to you.”

Hawke made to grab her bag and get up from the table when Sebastian’s hand flashed across the table and gripped her arm tightly. Her jaw tightened at his touch and she went very still.

“It is only through incredible self-control that I don’t stab you with my spoon right now. Get your hand off me.”

Sebastian only tightened his grip further, leaning forward across the table, his eyes darkening with emotion. “If you want to continue your habit of breathing I suggest you listen to me Morya Hawke.”

Hawke debated shrugging off his hand but decided she didn’t want to make a bigger scene than they already were. Scenes made memories and she preferred to stay forgettable. 

“You keep saying my name like it’s some magical word that will bind me. It’s not you know. You have five minutes to explain yourself and then I’m gone.”

“The Seekers are looking for you.”

“So you've said. I assume that is their job, looking for things, judging by their name. Why are they looking for me?”

“I’m not really sure. Varric thinks it’s because they believe you can do something about the Mage-Templar war.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m just telling you what I was told. They questioned Varric for several days, asking about your activities in Kirkwall, your motivations, your accomplices.”

Hawke felt her jaw tighten and she let out a careful breath. “Varric was questioned? Why?”

“You know very well that it is a poorly kept secret that Varric runs half the spies in Kirkwall. And it’s not like he tries to hide it,” Sebastian paused, taking a sip of water from the glass that Hawke had ignored in favor for her tea, his lips pursing slightly at the taste. “He is a known associate of yours Moyra. It would be ridiculous if they _didn’t_ question him.”

“I didn’t realize you and he were on such good terms. Varric’s a pretty forgiving guy but even he takes exception to jackasses.”

“We came to... an understanding.”

“An understanding,” she said flatly. “I see. And are you expecting the same understanding between us?”

Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh and released her hand before slumping back in his seat, glaring at her. “Believe it or not, I do not wish you harm, Moyra.”

“You have a funny way of showing it, what with all the vowing to seek vengeance. He’s dead, by the way. He died saving my life that day in the Gallows. It doesn't excuse what he did, not by far, but if not for him I would be rotting in some unmarked grave I’m sure.” 

“A single act of selflessness does not excuse the atrocity he committed.”

“Did I say that it did?” Hawke let out a frustrated sigh of her own. “We’re going in circles here, Sebastian. You came and warned me of these Seekers. Did you hope that a single act of repentance would excuse _your_ betrayal?” she threw back at him.

Her jab hit the mark as she saw him flinch, but immediately on the heels of the satisfaction she felt at the blow came guilt. It was a low blow, what she said, but she refused to take it back. There was too much hurt in her heart to let her do that.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought," she paused, a bitter taste in her mouth as she stood up. "Thanks for the warning. I'll be taking my leave now.” When he didn't respond, Hawke fished out a couple coins, hoping the waitress wouldn't curse her into the Void for the measly tip she left her, and tossed them on the table. Shouldering her satchel, she stood for a second, just looking at him, certain that this would be the last time she saw him.

“Goodbye, Sebastian.”

The jukebox kicked in as she walked away, the song putting a hitch in her gait. Édith Piaf’s sorrowful voice filled the diner, telling the world that she regretted nothing. The Maker had an obscene sense of humor. But like the great Orlesian chanteuse, she also regretted nothing except for the death of a love that never really had a chance to grow.


	2. Chapter 2

A sickly yellow light painted the parking lot as she left, making it seem even more desolate. True to his word, there were no soldiers, Starkhaven or Templar, waiting for her in the parking lot. Hawke let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She tried to stow her satchel in the saddlebag on her bike but her hands were shaking too much.

Seeing him again after all this time was too much. She had never thought to see him again. And if the thought that she would had ever crossed her mind, their encounter would not have ended as peacefully as it just did. She had been certain that the earth would be stained with their blood and one of them wouldn’t have been able to walk away.

Hawke placed both hands on the Harley, her head bowed. She wanted a drink. Dwarven ale, Fereldan mead, Orlesian wine, even that Rivain shit Isabela was always trying to push on her. It didn’t matter what form it took, she desperately wanted something to drink.

The night air suddenly took on an acrid smell, something foul and it wasn’t the diner’s garbage. Hawke turned to see two Shades and a Shriek glide over the parking lot toward her. Rolling her shoulders she faced them.

“Really? Well, never let it be said that Moyra Hawke ever walks away from a fight.”

Hawke pulled her pistols out from their holsters, firing at the creatures as they circled around her. She clipped one Shade in its shoulder and put a bullet in the gullet of the other. The Shriek sunk into the pavement and disappeared but she could still hear it, the sound for which it was named for echoed around her.

The two Shades took advantage of the distraction and advanced on her. Hawke tumbled to the side, aiming both pistols at the closest Shade and put six more bullets into it. The creature screamed as it melted into the ground, fading from existence. Its twin blasted out a wave of energy that knocked her back, her head rapping hard against the pavement. Great. Not just a Shade but a Greater Shade, maybe even an Ash Wraith.

Claws dug into her right shoulder, pinning her to the ground. Hawke looked up into the face of the Shriek and tried not to recoil at its twisted features. Bringing up her other arm, she shoved her pistol into its mouth and fired. The creature’s head exploded in a red burst, most of it directed away from her face. In its death throes, its claws dug deeper into the flesh of her shoulder and she felt the muscles tear.

Blinking back tears, Hawke scrambled to her feet only to be knocked back again by the Shade. Her right arm nearly useless, she aimed the pistol in her other hand at it and fired. Only one shot fired before she was firing empty chambers. Tossing it to the side, she rolled over to grab the other one only to have the Shade swipe it away. It stood over her, almost looking gleeful in its victory. As gleeful as a Shade could look anyway.

“Fuck you. I’m not dying at the hands of a blighted Shade.”

Hawke reached behind her, grasping the haft of her dagger. It had barely cleared its sheath before two arrows sprouted in its chest. Maybe another second passed before another two joined its brothers. The creature screamed as it reeled back, a black ichor oozing from its wounds. She wasn't so lucky this time as some of it sprayed over her face and into her mouth. Spitting it out, Hawke tried to sit up only to have her vision grey out. Her arm had gone numb but her shoulder felt as if it had been drowned in acid.

Footsteps raced up to her. She could hear her name being called but it sounded muted, as if it was being spoken from another room. The Shriek’s poison was working quickly, too quickly. A scream erupted from her as something pressed against her shoulder.

“Ah, _mo ghrá_ , how do you always get in these situations?”

Hawke opened her eyes, seeing Sebastian’s blurry form hovering above her, the only thing that was clear were his eyes.

“Habit, I guess. I will never mock you for your ridiculous bow again.”

She missed whatever his response was as the world completely faded and she fell into darkness.

~~~

Hawke woke up to an interesting mixture of fire and numbness running down her arm. And by interesting she meant that she wouldn't mind severing the arm from her body, surely that would be less painful.

Instead of gloomy starlight, a grey, water stained ceiling filled her vision. Instead of hard pavement she felt a slightly less hard mattress under her. Hawke turned her head to the side, squeezing her eyes tightly for a moment in the hopes of clearing her vision.

The room was clean if a little tattered. It had the appearance of someone who still cared but didn’t quite have the funds for the upkeep and was making do with what they had.

Hawke started to sit up but her body protested. It went against her nature, but she submitted to her body's demand to lay still. The fact that she had an honest to goodness real mattress under her factored in no small part of her decision to remain lying down.

Air curled over her skin and it was then that she realized that she had been stripped down to her underclothes, the tank-top she habitually wore under her shirts was still mostly in place but with one strap cut away to allow for the bandage that covered her shoulder. Her bra was completely gone.

She reached up and carefully probed the injury. The dressing was well made and now that she was more alert she could smell the elfroot poultice smeared over the wound. Give her a couple of hours and she'd be ready to move, such was the wonders of proper healing.

Her hand drifted to her neck and found only smooth skin. Panic threaded through her. She couldn't have lost it. She had lost so much, it couldn't be gone.

"Looking for this?"

Hawke's gaze zeroed in on a darkened corner of the room, seeing for the first time the long legs jutting out from a chair, with arms balanced on the knees. An small object swung slightly back and forth, light from the lamp glinting off the metal.

"Give it back."

Rather than answer her, Sebastian cupped the pendant in his hand, his thumb brushing over its surface.

"You're still wearing it."

"I got used to having it on. Now give it back." Hawke ignored the pain and pushed herself up into a sitting position and was pleased that her vision only slightly greyed before refocusing. She held the sheet with one hand while reaching out with the other, palm up, waiting for him to return the locket.

"My grandfather had once told me that this locket belonged to the Vael family and should remain with it."

"Then you shouldn't have given in to me in the first place. But it's mine now and I want it back."

Ignoring her, Sebastian continued to study what had at one time been Meaghan Vael's locket, seemingly fascinated by it. "I'm surprised you didn't sell it. I'm sure coin hasn't been easy to come by."

"Visit a few pubs and one can find plenty of coin if you know where to look. It's surprisingly easy to separate a fool from his money," she told him, skirting around his inferred question. True she could have gotten a nice pile of coin for the trinket, and had come close to selling it more than once, but in the end she knew that she could never part with it. It was a reminder of a past life, or one that could have been, and she was loath to let it go.

"Back to grifting are we?"

"Seeing as all my funds were frozen and I have no way to access them, yes Sebastian, I've returned to my so-called wicked ways." It was getting hard to remain upright. The initial surge of adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was starting to seep back in.

Sebastian pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to the bed. To say the man walked was a massive oversimplification. While she wouldn't exactly say that he prowled toward her, advancing toward her like a shadowcat stalking its prey, she wouldn't argue with anyone who claimed that he did. He could move so quietly from one place to another and be there almost before you had realized that he had moved to begin with.

He sat next to her on the bed and it took considerable effort not to pull back from him. She was in a vulnerable position and she didn't like it. She felt defenseless, something she liked even less.

"Let me see the dressing."

"Give me the locket and I'll let you see the dressing."

"Let me see the dressing and I'll give you the locket and the elfroot tonic to help with the pain you are so valiantly trying to hide. Lie back down and let me have a look."

Hawke remained where she was, refusing to back down. She already felt vulnerable and exposed and she wasn't about to make it worse by lying back down.

“I think we both know that in your current state I can make you lie down whether you want to or not.”

“You can tend to the wound just as well with me sitting up than me lying down. Do what you have to do so I can get dressed and get out of here.”

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere Moyra, that Shade’s poison went deep before I could tend to your wounds. If you had been wearing proper armor this wouldn't be so bad,” Sebastian sighed as he pulled back the gauze pad and Hawke had to grit her teeth to keep from whimpering. He was silent for several minutes as he cleaned the wound and applied a fresh layer of poultice and replaced the bandage.

“Where is your armor by the way?” he asked as he passed her the elfroot tonic, watching her carefully as she chugged it down in a few gulps.

Hawke wiped away the excess of the tonic from her lips with the back of her hand before setting the bottle on the nightstand, savoring the feel of the elfroot kicking in and the pain releasing its hold from her body. Give her ten minutes and she’d be ready to go.

“Sold it.”

Sebastian pulled back, frustration and anger flashing across his handsome face.

“Why in Andraste’s name would you do such a stupid thing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“What does it matter to you if I live or not? I’m just some Fereldan dog lord, remember? One who wasn't lucky enough to die with the rest of her family,” she muttered bitterly as she made to get off the bed, determined to get dressed and get back on the road and get as far away from here as she possibly could. Maybe she should go back to Ferelden after all. It wasn't like there was anything keeping her here in the Free Marches anyway.

Sebastian moved so fast that it almost didn’t register in her brain until his hands were gripping her face tightly. The last time she had seen him this angry was when she had refused his demand to kill Anders or he would do everything in his power to do so himself.

“It matters a lot. Maker knows I've tried to forget, to forget you, but I can’t, I just can’t.”

“Maybe you haven’t tried hard enough--.”

His lips crushed down on hers, taking her in and down as he seemingly devoured her. Hawke felt something uncurl and snap within her as her hands came up automatically to grip his shirt. She was so hungry, how could she have forgotten the hunger she had for him?

His hands weren't gentle as he pulled off her tank-top, greedy to touch skin he hadn’t felt in over a year. Hawke had to suppress the whimper of pain that threatened to escape as she found herself flat on her back and his hands found her underwear and ripped them off her. In a dim corner of her mind she remembered that was her last pair but the thought fled as his lips found her breasts and he took a nipple in his mouth, licking the tip with his tongue as his hand cupped her other breast. She arched into his touch, both greedy and desperate for his touch. Maybe this was one last hurrah for them before they parted ways and never saw each other again. If it was, she was going to make the best of it.

Hawke grabbed at the collar of his shirt, tugging at it impatiently. Sebastian released her long enough to pull it over his head and toss it to a dark corner of the room, his pants quickly following them before returning to her, this time trailing kisses down her stomach. He took a detour to her hip, lightly biting the area before moving back up her torso, his hands gripping her hips to hold her still.

Frustrated, Hawke swung a leg up over his waist and flipped them over so that she straddled his waist. If he thought he was going to be the only one in charge here she was going to have to disabuse him of that notion.

She pinned his arms over his head, leaning down to pull at his lower lip, running her tongue along its edge before moving down his throat, inhaling his scent, storing it in her memory. Sitting up she ran her hands down and over his chest, feeling the muscles shift under his skin as he slid his hands up her bare thighs. Hawke tried to suppress a shudder at the feel of his calloused hands running over her skin. Her eyes took him in greedily, memorizing every line, every scar. He had gained some new ones since they had last been like this but then so had she.

Leaning down, she placed another kiss on his chest, swirling her tongue around his nipple before moving down. Her lips curved against his skin at the strangled groan he let out and felt his hand weave into her hair. She would have continued her downward path but his fingers tightened and she found herself on her back again and his lips on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he sank into her.

“Not fair,” she whispered when he trailed kisses down her jawline and took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged lightly. His breath was hot on her skin as he moved back up her jaw and lifted his head just enough to where he could stare into her eyes. His blue eyes were fully dilated and his expression held nothing back. Maker, had he ever looked at her like this before? She had seen many expressions on his face but none of them had been this wild and intense.

“I have no intention of playing fair, _mo ghrá_ ,” he growled as he ran his hand down her side and then between the juncture of her legs. Hawke cried out as his fingers grazed against her sex, teasing the flesh there before sliding into her. No, he was most definitely not playing fair.

“Yes, climb for me,” he whispered against her skin, biting the juncture of her neck, skirting around the bandage that covered her shoulder. “Do you know how many nights I've thought of you over the past year?”

“Probably as many as I've thought about you,” she managed to get out before his fingers started to slide in and out of her, his thumb rubbing against her clit in smooth, teasing motions.

“That could be, I suppose, if you mean every night since that day. I hated you for a long time, or wanted to anyway. I was so angry but your face haunted me each night. First, I would just see you in my dreams, but then you haunted me into the late hours of the night and then when the sun came up.” He inserted another finger and curled them up into her, eliciting a strangled cry from her as she came. Through the slits of her eyes she saw a satisfied smile spread across his face, but the predatory look in his eyes remained and his hand was still moving.

“I thought of you, of the nights we shared until I couldn’t take it anymore and I would take myself in my hand while I thought of you. I thought it would purge you from my mind but it only made it worse. I would imagine your hands on me, your thumb brushing over the tip of my cock before you bent down and took me into your mouth. I thought of you in so many ways that I should have sought penance for my wicked thoughts, but I never did.”

He pulled his hand away, eliciting a cry of dismay from her. Hawke found herself powerless under his touch. She had thought this would be just a quick romp, one for old times sake, but he was drawing this out too long for it to be so.

“Did you ever think of me, Moyra? Did you ever think of me between your legs, my tongue pressing against you, flicking against your clit as my fingers teased you from the inside?” When she didn’t answer, her breath coming too quickly for her to form words he clucked his tongue. “Perhaps I should refresh your memory.”

He shifted down her body, nipping and licking a hot path down until he reached his target. His nose brushed at her swollen clit before his tongue traced up and down, teasing her with light kisses as he slipped his fingers into her again. Hawke could do nothing to fight back, the sensations he elicited from her were too strong, too powerful to do anything but submit. Her fingers tangled into his hair tightly, as if to keep him where he was. She needn't have bothered as it appeared that he had no inclination of going anywhere.

Heat flushed through her as he continued to lick and suck and pump his fingers in and out of her. Hawke arched off the bed as her climax burst through her. The blood was pounding so loudly in her head that she didn’t realize that she had called out his name. She felt a brief rush of cool air before the heat returned and Sebastian hovered above her, his fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her deeply.

“I had forgotten how much I love the sound of my name on your lips. Shall we try to see if we can make that happen again?”

He had barely finished his question before he was sliding easily into her, her passage already slick and ready for him. Hawke hooked her leg high up on his waist and felt him sink even further. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and it fell back, exposing her neck. Sebastian took advantage, placing bruising kisses at the base of her throat as he began moving within her.

Hawke met him thrust for thrust. Barely. Her body was still trying to recover from the last orgasm and already she could feel another building. It shouldn’t be possible. He shouldn’t be able to bring this out of her some distant corner of her mind thought, but her body was telling a completely different story.

“Can you come for me again, _mo ghrá?_ Come for me again.” Hawke noted with some pleasure that his voice wasn't nearly as calm and controlled as it had been a minute ago. She tightened her muscles around him and felt him shudder above her, his pace faltering slightly. The smug look on her face faded into one of ecstasy as he tilted his hips and drove deeper. This time her muscles clenched around him of their own volition.

Hawke grabbed his face and pulled it down to hers, her hands fisting tightly in his hair. She bit his lip before soothing it with her tongue. His hand slipped down between them, pressing against that hard and swollen nub, eliciting another cry from her. Her arms tightened around him as she rode out the orgasm, clinging to him as if he was the only thing that could hold her together. Through the blood rushing through her ears she heard him say her name as he came within her.

Her body was curled tightly around him as if part of her was afraid that if she let go he would disappear but eventually her muscles couldn’t maintain the hold and her limbs slid to the bed, her body still quivering. Sebastian’s head was resting in the crook of her neck, his breath coming out in hot streams across her cooling skin.

They lay there in silence for several moments, neither having the energy or inclination to move. Eventually though, Sebastian’s weight on her became more uncomfortable than not.

“Sebastian.”

All she got was a muffled reply that brought a satisfied smile to her lips before she pushed at his shoulder. “Get off, you’re getting heavy.”

Sebastian simply rolled them over so that she lay spread over him, her head resting on his chest. She couldn’t find it within herself to argue too much, that would require energy she didn’t quite have yet.

Minutes slipped by and Hawke knew that she should get up and get dressed so she could leave town. Instead she buried her face into Sebastian’s chest, inhaling his scent to commit it to memory. Soon enough memories were all that she would have of him for she knew that nothing would come of this.

“I wish I could stay.” The words tumbled through her mind and she didn’t realize that she had said them aloud until his arms tightened around her.

“You could, you know. Stay.”

 _No_ , she thought, this time the words staying in her thoughts. _No, I can’t._

“The only thing preventing you from staying is you, Moyra.”

Hawke pushed herself up, pulling the sheet up with her to ward off the sudden chill that had taken over her body. “And what about this Seeker army that you say is after me? If they’re anything like the Templars I think that’s a pretty good reason to disappear.”

Sebastian pushed himself up to his elbows, his eyes calm as he looked at her. “I can’t say much as to what exactly the Seekers want besides wanting to talk to you but from what I know I don’t think they share the Templars…fervent need to see you dead.”

Hawke turned her face away, looking across the room, anywhere but at him. She couldn’t stay, no matter how much she wanted, she couldn’t stay. She had lost so much already, she couldn’t stand to lose more and that’s exactly what would happen if she did stay.

“I’m not sorry for tonight, I won’t be a hypocrite for that, but I think both of us know that I can’t stay.”

“You think you’re protecting me by leaving, don’t you?” Sebastian sat up and gently took her face in his hands. Hawke had trouble meeting his gaze, instead choosing to keep her eyes closed. “Don’t you think that it’s time that you let someone protect you for a change?”

She felt his thumb brush across her cheek, wiping away tears that she hadn’t realized she’d been shedding.

“It hurt, you know, trying to forget you. I tried to move on, tried to hang on to the anger. I managed to retake Starkhaven but it felt like a hollow victory without you, but I pushed forward because I thought it was best.

“That changed the day Varric came to me with the news that the Seekers were looking for you. I left Starkhaven that day and have been looking for you ever since.”

Hawke opened her eyes, finally meeting his gaze. He was giving words to a secret dream she had carried close to her heart, one that she hadn’t dared to even think about.

“I've lost so much Sebastian. First Carver, then Bethany and my mother. Isabela left over that stupid book. Fenris left because I sided with the mages. Lost Anders to his stupid thirst for vengeance. Lost you.” The last came out as barely a whisper.

“You daft woman, you haven’t lost me. And there are plenty who still stand with you. You've just been too stubborn to let them.”

“Don’t call me stubborn.”

“You’re stubborn as a mule, as the saying goes. You wouldn't be you without that streak of stubbornness, but I’m asking you to set that aside for once and let us help.”

“Us?”

“Yes. Us. You don’t think it was just me looking for you, do you? Varric, Aveline, Merrill, even Isabela came back to help look for you, we've all been looking for you. I just happened to be the one who found you.”

“You got lucky.”

“In more ways than one I would say.”

Hawke couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped from her. It was still strange to hear such talk from him. For the first few years they had known each other she had thought that he had the largest stick up his ass. It was only later that she had discovered there was so much more to him.

“Ah, I missed your laugh, _mo ghrá_. I missed your face. I just didn’t know how much until I saw you again.”

“You’re a sap, Sebastian.”

“Perhaps I am, but I am serious. Please let us help you. Let me take you home.”

“You presume a lot, Sebastian.”

“I’m a Prince again. Princes are supposed to presume things.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow at that before shaking her head in amusement. She reached up and took his hands from her face. She held them tightly, wondering if she could dare to believe in the dream he was offering her.

She could, if she wanted to, keep moving, keep running. It was a life she was accustomed to. The ten years she had spent in Kirkwall were an aberration, a statistical outlier that really shouldn’t be counted. Yes, she could keep running if she had to, but did she want to? That was the real question.

“I won’t be coddled, Sebastian. Or tucked away in a tower.”

“As if I could do either. All I’m asking is for you to let someone else take the lead for a while, to help carry the load. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I can’t do it without clothes either. You kind of destroyed the last shirt and pair of underwear that I owned.”

“I’ll buy you all the underwear you’ll ever need, though I like the look of you without them,” he said, a devilish look taking over his face.

“You’re a pervert. Words I thought I’d never say to you.”

Sebastian’s laughing eyes turned serious as he leaned forward, trailing a finger down her cheek.

“I am sorry, Moyra. You can’t know how much.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

“Will you come?”

Moyra Hawke cupped her hands gently on Sebastian’s face and placed a soft kiss on his lips. She lingered there, letting go of all the fear and anger she had held on to over the last year. It was time to stop running.

“Yes.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame Sebastian for the change from Teen to Mature in this story. It's all his fault.

**Author's Note:**

> I set this between World War I and World War II as I've always felt there was a parallel between the Fifth Blight and the oncoming war that we're expecting in DA Inquisition. Just seemed to fit. 
> 
> The song Édith Piaf sings is _Non, je ne regrette rein_ and I messed with the timeline a bit as it was written in 1956. You might recognize it as the song the crew from _Inception_ uses as the "kick" to wake them up.


End file.
